


Sweet Butter Knife

by ilichill



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Confusion, M/M, Mess, Self-Harm, filled with people with no feelings, lowkey supernatural stuff, rated for their heartlessness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2018-12-12 08:17:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11733183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilichill/pseuds/ilichill
Summary: Doyoung kept finding Taeyong dead by his own hands





	1. you can set yourself on fire

**Author's Note:**

> it's my first nct fanfic and it's dotae?? wow.

/

It is said that everything in this universe emits their own energy. It is said that those energies come in waves, occupying every available space. It is said that humans are able to see these waves, but normal human eyes aren't able to translate them to the brain, leaving our other senses to pick them up instead.

That's why goosebumps are a thing. That's why we feel sad when it rains. That's why our guts keep telling us things, and that's why sense of dread happens.

It is said that humans are able to feel energies, but some people are built to not give a single flying fuck.

Doyoung knew something was wrong the moment he set foot into his apartment. Doyoung knew he should probably check out where the sound of water came from, or why there were random pieces of clothing on the floor, or how the picture frames he had carefully put up on the walls were mostly slanted — and some were smashed to pieces.

But Doyoung just finished a huge project earlier today, barely surviving his presentation — barely managing not swinging his fist at the whiny client lady who couldn't tell cyan apart from turquoise, and got him repeating the same explanation for an hour straight.

Feeling entitled to reward himself for surviving at least half of his shitty day already, he headed to the kitchen instead, where he chugged an unknown substance right out of the jug (he thought it was some kind of a healthy juice mix, but the sweetness that stuck to his throat screams anything but healthy). Dissatisfied by the taste of the weird drink, he shuffled through the snack stash to find a pack of gummy bears — no doubt not his. Doyoung figured he shouldn't be eating sweet stuff but he munched them still, for the sake of rebelling.

The thought of rebelling reminded him of his roommate, and the thought of his roommate reminded him of the mess he saw just now. He groaned internally at the thought of a pissed off Taeyong, before groaning again when he imagined how his roommate is also going to lash out at him for stealing candies.

Making a mental note to buy Taeyong a new pack of gummy bears later, Doyoung shifted to the living room, observing the mess before deciding to clean up a bit. He took his sweet time picking up the broken pieces of glasses, putting them all in a plastic bag. He then scooped up the random clothing articles into his hands, before dumping them all into the hamper, not exactly caring if he ended up forgetting to divide the whites and the colors like he was supposed to.

The living room was now more presentable, and the most extra Doyoung could do now was to straighten the picture frames on the wall — but he set the plan aside when his ears picked up the faint sound of water dripping again. Doyoung looked around, figuring out where the drip drops came from. He slowly made his way to the bedroom corridor, and finally stopping in front of the bathroom door, which was left slightly open for him to peek inside.

He automatically frowned when he saw the sight inside. He wished he had crashed back in the office instead of heading home right away to this muck. He should've slept at the unused closet no one cared to clean up instead of commuting back to find this chaos. If he had done so, surely the landlord would've found out that something was wrong and gone to check the apartment unit before he arrived home in the morning, saving him an awful lot of work and explaining he was now responsible to do.

The bathroom was a mess. Things were strewn all over the place, soaps and shampoo bottles crushed in corners, pills and razor blades pooled at the bottom of the sink. Most importantly, the floor was flooded by water overflowing from the bath tub, which was filled full to the brim — and the faucet was still on, splashing more water to the already drenched room.

"Again, Taeyong?" Doyoung asked as he crack the door fully open, not really expecting any answer since the guy he was addressing had his head under the water in the bath tub, his skin already turning blue from the lack of oxygen.

Doyoung fished his cellphone from his jeans pocket, lazily dialing the emergency hotline. He asked for an ambulance right away. "Yes, yes," he absentmindedly answered the question thrown by the person from the other side, "I don't know. Suicide attempt? Yeah, maybe, why not. Look, just send an ambulance now, okay? Maybe you can save him or something."

Annoyed, he ended the call. He turned the faucet off and drained the bath tub, making sure not to touch the lifeless body inside. What a shame, he mused as he watched the handsome face of his dead roommate, he was so young, with so many hopes and dreams. He expected the older guy inside the tub to suddenly jitter back to life or something, but after 5 minutes, Doyoung got bored. He dashed to the kitchen to grab the almost-empty packet of gummy bears before he went back to the bathroom, where he decided to wait until the emergency medical staff came knocking on his door.

"I hope you die for real this time," he said between munches, almost wishing Taeyong wasn't dead enough to miss his sincere prayer.

Doyoung made another mental note to ask Johnny about cigarettes. You know, just in case he needed to cope. Or whatever.

//

"What did they say?"

And to this question, Doyoung only rolled his eyes.

"They said it was another miracle, wasn't it?"

Now Doyoung felt like hurling the color chips in his hands, but with the hospital rules in mind, he settled with throwing his conversational partner a death glare instead.

"That's what you are," he snorted, hoping he sounded a good measure disgusted, "Miracle Man."

"I'm afraid they're going to get the wrong idea about me..." and Doyoung should've known, the sarcasm didn't get through the other person's head.

"Just finish your meal," he dodged the inevitable emotional talk, turning back to the different-colored squares of the chips he was studying for his next project.

Yes, of course workaholic Doyoung wouldn't let something like a dying roommate get in the way of his work. When the medical staff dealt with Taeyong as soon as they arrived, Doyoung sneaked into his bedroom to pack the things he thought he might need for work. He should've packed some clothes for both him and Taeyong too, but who would ever guess.

Taeyong was proclaimed dead at the spot, for fuck's sake. Doyoung was initially here because the doctors needed to do autopsy, or some other thing they do to dead people, Doyoung didn't really care at this point. All he knew was that his roommate was gone and he had to stick around until his parents and sister arrive.

But Taeyong decided to wake up the moment he was carted into the facility, giving a handful of people the jumpscare Doyoung was more than glad to witness.

And now everyone is cooing at the guy, trying to make him feel better after such tragic, traumatic events.

Doyoung scoffed. Right, right, if anyone, it was him who should've known that Taeyong had more chance to survive than for him to finish his work assignment before deadline.

"You don't seem happy."

"How am I supposed to be all jolly right now?" Doyoung hummed, "I have another client presentation in like, 3 hours. And I haven't settled on a color for their sofa."

"I'm sorry.."

"You don't have to be."

"Maybe next time I should try the pills again."

Doyoung let out a hearty laugh, "You know real well it won't work."

"Maybe it will. This time."

"Not if I found you first."

"Doyoung, you said you were going to stop trying."

Doyoung sighed, finally putting down his color chips to look at the man on the hospital bed.

"You know I won't ever stop."

Doyoung watched as his roommate's lips curl into a fond smile, his gaze soft as he pierced his fork through the mashed potato on his plate.

"You're right."


	2. but you're never gonna burn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the messy johnten and yuten are finally here. not much, but they’re here. worth noting that i wrote this whole chapter while listening to my chemical romance’s cancer on loop.

///

There were so many things Doyoung hated; so many that he could easily write a top 50 list from the top of his head. Number two would be staying out in the cold for no reason at all, and number one would be the mutual friends he and Taeyong shared.

But those friends hated him too, and that was why Doyoung found himself at the parking lot, where no other sane soul could be found loitering around in the middle of the coldest January mornings.

To his left was his nemesis Ten, playing with a stray cat who seemed lost, and to his right, the person he deemed Satan himself, Johnny, breathing out cigarette smoke into the solemn winter air.

"Tell me again why we're here," Doyoung gritted his teeth, shuffling his hands into the pockets of his downjacket.

"To cheer you up," Ten replied matter-of-factly, clearly not paying attention to how much Doyoung was shivering, or how annoyed the stray cat on his lap already looked.

Doyoung was unamused.

"I'm not cheered up."

Johnny coughed his rotting lungs out, forcing the younger guys to look at him. Doyoung with disgust, Ten with pity.

"We want to talk to you," Johnny finally said after his series of fits, "about Taeyong."

"What about him?" Doyoung asked, a sense of foreboding creeping up on him.

"You do realize that what you're having with him is unhealthy, right?" Johnny looked at him incredulously, "Like, honestly, why don't you make your mind up already? Why are you two taking so long? If you're not going to make things official then.. then why don't you lay down some rules or guidelines or something?"

"Rules?" Doyoung snorted, "But this is not a game."

"With how the two of you are acting, it sure seems like one," Ten quipped.

"Look here," Johnny started again, "You can't continue on without talking with Taeyong. Don't make excuses, we know you just don't want to talk about it. But it doesn't work that way, Doyoung. You need a combined effort to find peace."

"Whoa," Doyoung rolled his eyes, "Funny hearing this from you. You guys are just as fucked up as me, what makes you so different?"

"We're not--"

"Johnny and I are boyfriends with a healthy, longlasting relationship," Ten sneered, "Unlike you. So you have to listen to us. We're your seniors in this department."

"Seniors my ass. You can't call your relationship healthy with how--"

Doyoung's rant got cut by a guitar riff blasting out of nowhere. Ten quickly scrambled to get his phone from his jacket pocket, and Doyoung heard a few raspy Japanese words, signaling that the call must've been from a certain someone.

"It's Yuta," Ten announced, slipping the gadget back inside his pocket, "He's nearby. I gotta go have breakfast with him today or he won't sleep with me for a week."

Johnny waved him off, while Doyoung frowned.

"You two-timing asshole," he grumbled.

Ten replied by childishly putting his tongue out, "It's not two-timing if all my boyfriends know." Without missing a beat, he stood up, kissed Johnny on the cheek, and dashed away. "I hope you fail your presentation, loser!" Ten hollered for the last time before disappearing into the building.

"You are so not better than me," Doyoung pointed out, eyebrows raised, "You and Yuta act like you guys are cordial and shit. I don't believe that's how you really feel. I have eyes, Johnny. I can see."

The older guy in front of him just gave him a smile.

"Well, Doyoung, my dude, we're like this because we care about everyone's wellbeing."

////

Doyoung had told Taeyong not to wait for him, and to go home as soon as possible. He was 100% sure that his presentation meeting would go badly thanks to his lack of preparation, and he already planned a self pity party at the bar for the night where he would get drunk alone, preferably until the next morning.

Taeyong refused, of course, using the "the doctor won't let me off without a companion" card, and Doyoung ended up picking his roommate up from the hospital in the afternoon, right after the dreaded meeting.

As Doyoung expected, Taeyong frowned the moment they stepped into their apartment. A decent living room for Doyoung was a pig sty by Taeyong's standards, and it's funny considering Doyoung was the one who meddled with interior design for a third of his whole life.

"Don't blame me," Doyoung raised his hands defensively, "I didn't have time to clean up until everything’s shipshape since you were drowning."

Taeyong eyed the slanted picture frames on the wall, the coffee table that wasn't aligned perfectly, and a few more things that were out of place. He recalled going home in a frenzy, most probably knocking things over as he screamed out his delirium the day before.

"You're right. It was my fault," he sighed, "I'll clean this up and cook tonight. To make up for everything."

As savage as he was, Doyoung knew he should be the one offering all that since it was Taeyong who just got hospitalized. But his bones were tired and they begged him to be an asshole, so he nodded and headed straight to his bedroom — until he felt the bump in his jeans pocket. He quickly turned back and made his way to the apartment balcony instead, making sure to draw the blinds so Taeyong wouldn't see him from inside the living room.

It was already dark outside when Doyoung closed the glass balcony door behind him. The lights from neighboring apartment towers illuminated specks of falling snow, and Doyoung zipped his downjacket again to fight the chill.

He pulled out the pack of cigarettes Johnny gave him earlier that morning, squinting at the texts on the side. Everything was written in French. It was supposed to be citrus flavored, which Johnny apparently thought would fit Doyoung's taste ("perfect for snobbish designers who want a life out of Kinfolk like you"), and now Doyoung could only cross his fingers that he wasn't scammed.

He took one, flicked on the lighter Johnny gave him as a complementary, and finally took a drag, filling his lungs with fruity smoke as his mind wandered far to the past.

He thought of the other days he spent sending Taeyong to emergency rooms again and again. The days Taeyong kept flittering back to life to the point he had to switch hospitals to not make people suspicious. He remembered the day it all started. The day he decided it was a good idea to let Taeyong know about his feelings after 3 years of friendship. The day he got introduced to Johnny, Ten, Yuta— and to the biggest regret in his life.

"Doyoung, did you take my gummy—" his train of thoughts was interrupted when Taeyong's head popped out of the door. Eyes trained on the thing Doyoung held between his slim fingers, he didn't look the tiniest bit pleased. "Oh."

Doyoung stayed quiet, expecting the worst from whatever Taeyong had to say next.

"Since when do you smoke?" was all he got.

Doyoung shrugged, bringing the cigarette back to his mouth again, "I'm thinking of becoming an active smoker from now on."

Taeyong let himself out to the balcony, edging closer to let Doyoung see the creases between his eyebrows in hopes that the other would get discouraged. "Stop it. Don't kill yourself like that."

Doyoung chuckled. ”Well, isn't that ironic."

He crushed the half-finished citrus cig on the iron railing of the balcony and watched it flicked to its death. Doyoung wasn't even looking at Taeyong, but he knew the older guy flinched from seeing his actions. He knew quite a lot of things about Taeyong after all. He knew a lot of things, and practically nothing.

"Hey, Taeyong."

"Yeah?"

"Why do you still want to die so bad?" Doyoung asked in a quiet voice, although he already knew the answer.

Taeyong leaned closer, putting his head on Doyoung's shoulder and sighing contentedly. ”Because I'm really happy with my life right now."

The microwave in the kitchen dinged, signaling their dinner was ready, but neither of them moved from their perch. They stayed, enjoying each other’s warmth, and the death metal music that could be heard faintly, blasting from one of the windows of a nearby building.


	3. you can set yourself on fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as i said in the tags, there's a lot of heartlessness in here. please don't do this to your friends :')

/////

Doyoung met Yuta at the cafetaria in his office building by chance.

Unfortunately.

Yuta worked in a law firm just two levels above his design company, so it was expected that they'd stumble upon each other every now and then. But it wasn't like Doyoung actively sought after the Japanese guy. And he hated his friends, remember?

His expression automatically turned sour when Yuta slid in to the vacant seat in front of him, with a bowl of salad balanced on one hand and a shit-eating grin pasted on his face. Yuta even had the nerve to set aside some of the papers Doyoung brought to the table, to make space for his huge ass plastic-wrapped bowl. Doyoung almost dashed out of the cafetaria for the sake of his sanity, but he ultimately opted to stay and protect his territory since he was the one who got there first.

"You're ruining my day, Nakamoto. Fuck off and be an asshole somewhere else," Doyoung scoffed before turning his attention back to the pile of design briefs he was in the middle of checking.

"Your day hasn't even started," Yuta retorted, raising an eyebrow, "You're eating cereals. Without milk. It's lunchtime."

Doyoung wondered why he had so many meddlers in his vicinity as Yuta unwrapped his salad bowl. For Doyoung it looked more like mud with some vegetable leaves, but it was probably Yuta's disgusting cooking skills that made the meal so unappealing to him.

“Oh right,” the older guy suddenly slapped his own forehead before he reached into his knapsack to retrieve a bunch of paper held together by a bright pink plastic fastener. "Please give this to Taeyong," he said, nudging the binded paper towards Doyoung.

Doyoung set his spoon down to bring the item closer to him. "What is this?" he squinted at the tiny words typed on the cover, accompanied by an array of rainbow and unicorn stickers so meticulously placed, "Complete Suicide Manual?"

"Yeah," Yuta started munching his questionable food, "This book got all these detailed guides for different methods of suicide. The author even rated methods based on practicality and pain and stuff. Hardcore shit right there." Yuta paused for a second to grin at Doyoung, who gave him a stink eye, "It's in Japanese, and obviously there aren't many publishers who'd translate such a controversial book to their language, so I helped Taeyong translate it all."

Doyoung frowned as he scanned past the pages, trying not to physically recoil from the 'helpful' charts and illustrations (and some glittery, smiley, and starry stickers on a few pages — probably to mark important parts), "Why are you giving Taeyong ideas?"

“I don’t know,” Yuta shrugged, “It's fun to see him get creative."

"You're just as awful as Ten."

“Heh. Am I? What did Ten do other than telling him you love his lunchboxes, anyway?”

"He introduced Taeyong to Dumb Ways to Die," Doyoung rolled his eyes, "Taeyong didn't learn anything from it because, well, obviously most of the stuff there is just too dumb. He couldn't stop playing the game for a whole week, though. That was really annoying"

Yuta guffawed, and Doyoung wanted to strangle him. But the mental image of Taeyong all curled up in his blanket, face scrunched from concentrating on the game, gave Doyoung butterflies that he almost giggled at the memory instead.

"Okay, but imagine Taeyong throwing himself to a grizzly bear,” Yuta waved his fork, "That'd be comical. It'd top that time he jammed the electric sockets and got burned. Come to think of it, that was probably my favorite Taeyong-almost-died moment. Hey, you saw him all the time, surely you too have your favorite?”

Doyoung stopped shuffling the pages. He slowly raised his head to meet Yuta’s gaze, with an expression that clearly showed how much he couldn’t believe the guy in front of him could be so stupid.

“A favorite?” he hissed, “Do you really think there was ever a time I enjoyed seeing Taeyong losing his life?”

Yuta blinked once. And then twice. When he realized, his eyes became as big as saucers. ”Wait, shit, no. I'm so sorry, dude, really. I didn't mean it like that," he quickly apologized, "It's just so... fascinating, you know. We don't have any other friends who almost died that many times. Even Johnny never deliberately hurt himself too, even with his invincibility and all."

Doyoung used the momentum to change the topic right away, “Actually, had Johnny ever got hurt badly? I mean, bad enough for him to get hospitalized?”

“Uh..” Yuta glanced down at his messy salad bowl, “I don’t think so. You should ask Ten. They know each other longer than I know either.”

“You have a point, except Ten always gets disgustingly mushy every time he talks about Johnny, so I probably won’t get anything from him,” Doyoung replied, recalling all the pet names Ten ever refered Johnny as. 

Yuta chuckled, “It’s cute, you know. He’s cute. When he talks about things he likes.”

“Even when it’s Johnny?” Doyoung raised an eyebrow, “You can be honest with me if you’re jealous."

Yuta shook his head firmly, “No! Why the hell do you think I could be jealous? I have no right to be, Doyoung. You know I'd give Ten up if Johnny ever asked me to.”

Doyoung huffed, ”You're only saying that because you know damn well he'd never hurt Ten like that."

"You're not wrong,” Yuta agreed and a soft, genuine smile bloomed on his face.

Doyoung almost retched.

“You three are so disgusting,” he announced, standing up and gathering his stuff and the empty bowls and glasses he used, “I’m not talking to any of you ever again.”

“At least we talk things through and try to make things work. Do you even tell Taeyong anything?” Doyoung heard Yuta yell all across the cafetaria as he walked out of the place.

//////

“I love you.”

It was during one of his rare day-offs when Doyoung decided to tell Taeyong.

The two of them were lazing around in their apartment, watching a science documentary on emperor penguins after pigging out on pizza and ice cream as a celebration for one of Doyoung’s successful projects. Taeyong was initially reading the manual from Yuta, but he got distracted by the waddling birds on TV. He didn't even protest when Doyoung slid the balcony door open, sat down next to him, lit a cigarette, and started smoking indoors, although that was against the apartment's rules. 

And so there they were, a mess of limbs on the couch —with Doyoung leaning on the couch's armrest, Taeyong's head lying on Doyoung's tummy, and Doyoung's legs securing Taeyong from rolling off to the ground— when Doyoung decided to tell Taeyong.

Taeyong didn't react for a few minutes, and Doyoung thought he was just too engrossed by the show to hear his confession. But the trembling he felt from the skinny body on top of him proved otherwise, and he wrapped his legs around Taeyong to stop him from shaking. Fortunately, the nearest object was the TV remote, so the most Taeyong could do was probably bash his head in with it. Nothing too gory and messy.

“Do you love my lunchboxes too?” he finally heard a small muffled voice answering him with another question, and relief washed over him.

“Yuta said Ten told you so,” Doyoung felt Taeyong humming his acknowledgement, “Was that why you tried to drown last time?” Another hum.

“You’re so stupid, you know that?” Doyoung sighed, taking another drag of his cigarette before he pushed it down to Taeyong’s arm.

Both of them fell into silence as they watched it burn into Taeyong's pale skin. It wasn't until the cigarette stopped burning and a dark, ugly mark was etched on his arm that Taeyong finally swatted Doyoung's hand away from him and stood up quickly.

“That fucking hurts, asshat,” Taeyong spat before he made his way to the kitchen.

Doyoung threw the dead cigarette away and followed his roommate. He watched Taeyong ran cold water on the burn, noting how there was no sign of the mark to disappear soon. Unlike the other scars Taeyong inflicted to himself.

"So this one stays," Doyoung gushed, gently touching the scar like it was a precious artwork.

Taeyong rolled his eyes in reply, "You already know that.”

“I know, but.. You know,” Doyoung mumbled. He leaned in and kissed the scar.

Neither said anything for a while. They just stood by the sink, gazes never leaving each other. Doyoung knew they were having it, the talk Johnny said they needed. They just didn't need words to convey what they need to, and they just had to let their feelings drip from their eyes and every pores of their being.

Taeyong finally broke the silence, his voice cracking.

“You really are going to murder me, right, Doyoung? You're going to kill me and put an end to my suffering?”

“Yes, Taeyong," Doyoung replied as he embraced him, "I promised you already.”

Taeyong started trembling again in his hug, and when Doyoung realized they were still in the kitchen —with a lot of sharp things in their reach— he pulled Taeyong into his bedroom.


	4. you're never gonna learn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is it guys. it's the end. i'm sorry for abandoning this story for months, but now it's ending!  
> just want to warn you that all the revelations are in this chapter so there'll be so much (probably too much) information and it could be overwhelming, but i hope everything here is enough to explain the premise of dotae's relationship (and their friends'). do take your time and read carefully! and please do leave a comment right after to let me know what you think of this terrible, horrible mess :)  
> thank you for being patient with me, and enjoy!

=

Doyoung found out about Taeyong on the day of their high school graduation.

They were on the way back to Doyoung’s family apartment after a final round of good byes to their schoolmates. Doyoung’s parents and brother had gone home earlier and Taeyong, as usual, had no one waiting for him back home and nowhere else to go, so he trailed after Doyoung. As usual. They walked side by side, discussing how they were going to spend spring break before university started. They talked about the future, talked about plans and possibilities and new friends.

It was all fun and budding excitement until Taeyong expressed his worry about being alone. He admitted he was going to miss Doyoung since they were going to different universities. It was only a 30 minutes bus ride between their campuses, but both of them knew how frenetic college could be — they watched firsthand how university life affected Gongmyung. They both doubted they’d ever meet each other as regularly again.

The mere topic made Doyoung nervous. All through high school they were known as The Duo, practically attached by the hip despite their stark difference— one was the popular student body president and the other was the quiet kid with no other friends. It wasn’t just once or twice someone from school wondered aloud how the two could get so close, but if only they had looked closer, they’d see that Doyoung and Taeyong were more similar than everyone else thought.

Doyoung and Taeyong were both guarded. They hid their feelings deep inside; Taeyong just straight up fenced himself from his surroundings while Doyoung built a facade of a social, charitable person. Doyoung might be more popular and favored than Taeyong at school, but in reality people only knew about the real Doyoung as much as they knew about Taeyong.

And that was why they clicked. Doyoung was comfortable with Taeyong, had been since he first introduced himself to the unsmiling guy sitting next to him on their high school entrance ceremony, and as it turned out, Taeyong was also comfortable enough with Doyoung that they shared most of their high school memories with each other and not with anyone else.

For Doyoung, though, it wasn’t just a matter of comfort.

He secretly had quite a huge, stinking crush on his best friend.

Truth be told, who wouldn’t? Girls and guys alike, who never even knew Taeyong personally because of his closed off personality, easily fell for his sculpted face and detached aura. It was inevitable to fall even deeper once you got to know the clumsy, silly, and a bit sensitive side of Taeyong that for some reason, in all 3 years spent in school, only President Kim Doyoung could unearth.

And the thought of not being able to prolong his privilege of being Taeyong’s number one friend all the way to university (and for the rest of his life, to be honest) bothered Doyoung to no end. Doyoung really just wanted to spend every waking hour with Taeyong. He knew it was a selfish wish. A selfish, impossible wish.

Yet that didn’t stop him from taking his improbable chance and grabbing Taeyong’s arm just as they were about to step in to the lobby of his apartment building.

Taeyong’s eyes were searching but gentle when he asked, “Doyoung? Is everything okay?”

“There’s something I need to tell you.” Doyoung gulped, and Taeyong kept his gaze pensive.

“I know this is sudden but I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a couple years now, Taeyong. You’re going to Japan for spring break and I don’t know if we could meet again before university started. I don’t know if we could meet again, ever, when university started. But I.. I want to stay as a part of your life. I don’t want us to stray.”

An explosion of emotions painted Taeyong’s face — if it was any other time Doyoung would be exhilarated to see this side of Taeyong he never showed to anyone else — until he settled with confusion. “You know we won’t, Doyoung.” Taeyong carefully said, “You’re my best friend.”

“No, not like that,” Doyoung quickly shook his head.

“Taeyong, I like you. More than just a friend. Hell, I think I’m in love with you.”

Doyoung looked down to his scuffed sneakers and let go of his hold on Taeyong’s arm, terrified of his reaction. He expected Taeyong to laugh awkwardly and tell him not to joke around, or even to bark him off and maybe walk out of his life forever. What Doyoung didn’t expect was the drawn out silence that suffocated him.

So Doyoung looked up; Taeyong wasn’t in front of him anymore.

The next thing he knew there was a loud screech, and someone screamed, and Doyoung turned to find his best friend of 3 years in the middle of the busy road in front of his apartment building, lying in a fresh pool of blood. It dawned on him right away. Taeyong’s blood, drenching his school uniform.

Everything fogged and all noises tuned out

Doyoung drowned into a dream.

He vaguely remembered his shoulders grabbed by strong hands, a woman asking if he was the victim’s friend. He blabbered something — he didn’t know what — and someone else pushed him into an ambulance. Doyoung saw blurry images of people rushing around to help his friend in and out of the cramped vehicle. Doyoung walked on air, and the hospital was a limbo-like space of all white and more rush of people.

He heard it, a voice booming right next to him.

_2:47 PM. Cause of death: traffic accident._

It wasn’t until he arrived in the mortuary, facing a deathly pale Taeyong,that Doyoung finally woke up from his dream. He burst into tears. He cried and cried and asked what happened. A huge part of him blamed himself. _It all happened because he confessed, didn’t it?_

Doyoung didn’t know how long he had cried, but he knew he must cried a lot. He felt his phone vibrating countless times — most probably Gongmyung or his parents — but he didn’t have the energy to answer it. No one else came to visit, Doyoung knew Taeyong’s mother and older sister were overseas, and he couldn’t recall anyone from school.

The only other visitors were three guys who came running into the morgue in a panic, a whole hour after Taeyong was pronounced dead. They were wearing a different school uniform from Doyoung’s; they were from a public school in the neighboring district.

“Who are you?” Doyoung sniffed and remembered the emergency contact in Taeyong’s student ID, “Are you Taeyong’s cousin?”

“Yeah,” the tallest of the three answered, and Doyoung almost cringed.

“Johnny,” Doyoung murmured knowingly as he took the guy’s hand. Finally, now that Taeyong was gone, he met the only part of Taeyong’s life never shared with him. He finally met the cousin Taeyong always kept as a secret.

“That’s me,” _Johnny_ nodded as he took a seat next to Doyoung, “and they’re my friends, Yuta and Ten,” he pointed at the other two respectively.

The one named Yuta nodded at Doyoung, while the other, Ten, was too preoccupied with looking at Taeyong’s covered body on the steel bed.

“Are you Doyoung?” Johnny asked without waiting for an answer, “Taeyong told me a lot about you.” Doyoung felt a warm hand enveloping his cold ones, “You don’t have to worry, okay? Taeyong will be fine. He’s much stronger than he looks.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Doyoung snapped, tears started rolling down his cheeks again, “He’s fucking dead, Johnny. How is he going to be fine, you dumbfuck?”

Doyoung felt Johnny jolted a bit, probably thrown off from the sudden expletives coming from a guy he only knew for a minute. “He.. didn’t tell you? He said he was going to tell you today.”

“Tell me what?”

Johnny’s voice was quiet and unsure as he continued, “About his.. condition?”

Doyoung grew frustrated “What condition?”

“Johnny, I don’t think this is the right time to—“

Ten’s speech was interrupted by a loud, creaking noise.

Everyone in the room turned to the steel bed, where Taeyong, all pale and bruised, was slowly sitting up.

He looked at the others, his eyes unfocused.

“What’s going on?” Taeyong asked with a crack in his voice.

Doyoung fainted.

 

///////

 

Doyoung peered over the metal fence on the edge of the building, looking at everything six levels down from where he was standing on the hospital’s rooftop garden. It was still cold, but the sky was clear and the sun shone warmly on Doyoung’s back. He didn’t have his jacket with him but he wasn’t shivering at all. Doyoung decided he liked this kind of cold weather.

He heard Johnny’s footsteps before he saw him and the taller man stood next to Doyoung.

“What happened this time?” he asked, wheezing.

“We went on a fishing trip. You know, it was one of our rare day offs together,” Doyoung explained, not tearing his gaze away from the traffic in front of the hospital, “Taeyong just jumped into the frozen lake.”

Johnny snorted and Doyoung looked at him incredulously.

“You haven’t checked up on him?” Doyoung inquired, finding it odd that Johnny still had his work briefcase with him. He could’ve left it in Taeyong’s ward. Doyoung noted that Johnny looked a bit disheveled, although by Johnny’s standard that means he still looked front cover-worthy.

“No need. I know he’ll be fine,” Johnny replied curtly. He got a point, so Doyoung didn’t ask further.

“I’m more worried about you,” Johnny added after a few beats of silence.

Doyoung squinted. Out of Johnny’s little trio, Ten was the only one who ever remotely expressed any kind of genuine concern to Doyoung. Doyoung understood, because Ten experienced the same things as him. Yuta only liked to mess around with him and Johnny only meddled in Doyoung’s business when it was about matters pertaining to Taeyong.

Hearing that Johnny was worried about him spooked Doyoung more than anything. Because it wasn’t normal, yet at the same time, he knew Johnny must’ve known all along.

Doyoung always put on a nonchalant facade, as if he had gotten used to Taeyong’s outbursts, as if he couldn’t care less if Taeyong died for real. But in reality he felt like a knife stabbed his heart every time he found Taeyong lifeless. A little part of him died when Taeyong got hurt. Doyoung was always scared that Johnny could be wrong. He was scared that Taeyong would be gone.

There was something wrong, something off-putting that Doyoung couldn’t really point out, in the way Johnny was behaving. And it made him very uncomfortable.

Another silence stretched out before Doyoung spoke up.

“Hey, Johnny.”

“Hm?”

“Do you remember the first time we met?”

Johnny only replied with a hum, but to Doyoung that sounded like Johnny just recounted the whole story in one breath — all the way from him fainting to how Johnny (with the help of Ten and Yuta) explained everything at the hospital’s cafetaria after he regained consciousness while the doctors took care of Taeyong who got back from death.

“You told me that Taeyong’s impulse to hurt himself whenever he’s happy is the price he has to pay for his immortality,” Doyoung took a deep breath, “You never told me about _your_ curse. What happens when you’re overwhelmed by emotions?”

“Me?” there was another long, suffocating pause, “I kill other people.”

Doyoung’s felt his heart leap out. “Pardon me?”

“I kill people when I’m happy, Doyoung,” Johnny repeated, “Specifically, I get rid of whoever made me happy.”

“How—“

“I killed my own parents hundreds of years ago,” Johnny answered,looking not the slightest bit bothered by the question, “When they suddenly threw me a birthday party. We were poor. We were so, so poor. I was nine years old. _Actually_ nine years old. Imagine a nine years old getting sweets when he wasn’t even used to eating more than clear soup for supper every day.”

“I’m so sorry,” was the only thing Doyoung could squeak out.

“It’s okay. I don’t even remember how my parents looked like anymore. _It’s not a curse if it’s not tragic and bloody_ ,” Johnny smiled wrily, “Why do you think I let Ten be with Yuta?”

Doyoung refused to think of an answer. He slowly shook his head no.

“One day I’ll have to leave him, before I fell too deep in love. Before he made me truly happy.”

Doyoung’s stomach churn. He tried to ignore the sudden flashes of Ten’s annoying laughter and loving gaze whenever Johnny was around.

Is this why Johnny was worrying about him for once?

“Johnny… This one day… When is it?”

“You’re really a sharp dude, huh? No wonder you can deal with Taeyong’s weird ways of concealing himself,” Johnny chuckled, “My flight is scheduled for this evening. I’m going to the airport right after I bid Taeyong good bye.”

Doyoung wished he could dash and empty his insides to the nearest toilet bowl.

“Where are you going?”

“Chicago,” Johnny shot him a look, “Don’t tell Ten. And don’t even think about coming to find me.”

As much as Johnny was an asshole to him, Doyoung couldn’t guarantee him that. “I don’t think—“

“Promise me,” Johnny insisted, “Promise me you’ll shut up and take care of Taeyong for me.”

“Johnny I can’t—“

“If not for me then, then for the box of those cigarettes you like that I’m going to give you after this.”

“How are you still joking around in times like this, you dumbfuck?”

 

////////

 

When they got back to their apartment, Doyoung forced Taeyong to relax with a cup of tea while he stationed himself in the kitchen to prepare dinner. Taeyong protested, of course, and Doyoung only stared at him sternly until Taeyong retreated, defeated, and Doyoung could hear the pitter patter of his footsteps to the living room.

He volunteered to cook partly because Taeyong just got out from the hospital and he’d feel like shit if he let Taeyong do the chores again, mainly because Doyoung knew how much Johnny’s departure affected his lover, even though Taeyong was putting up a brave, confident front. The way Taeyong (very subtly) deflated when Johnny said his good byes a few moments before his discharge was enough for Doyoung to know how sad he really was.

Doyoung knew for a fact that Johnny and Taeyong moved a bunch of times in their lifetime (about 40 lifetimes for Doyoung), creating new identities multiple times to not raise suspicion over how they never seemed to age. They usually went everywhere together, sometimes acting like total strangers in public to convince everyone of their made-up background stories. But they kept in touch, and they were always in each other’s aid.

The last time Johnny left Taeyong without any means to contact him, they got estranged for decades.

And now Johnny did that again, reasoning that Taeyong had Doyoung this time. Reasoning that he was sure of their future, reasoning that Taeyong would never find anyone else like Doyoung in a million years. Reasoning that it was time for both him and Taeyong to end this particular chapter of their seemingly endless story.

Doyoung felt honored, but he was much aware of his role. No matter how much Taeyong loved him now, there was that one bond Doyoung could never comprehend, much less share. Doyoung couldn’t even imagine the feeling of only having one other person in the whole world who has the same hardship as him — and Johnny and Taeyong had suffered for so long, sharing all the pain only the two of them knew. They were more than cousins, more than brothers.

Doyoung’s thought was ceased by the sound of something shattering from the direction of the living room.

“Taeyong?” Doyoung called out, unwilling to leave the simmering vegetables in the pan, “Taeyong, is everything okay?”

There was no reply. A dark feeling crept up Doyoung’s back. He quickly turned the stove off and wiped his hands as he made his way to the living room. What he found in the living room was pieces of Taeyong’s favorite teacup on the floor, a puddle of warm brown liquid, and Taeyong himself, staring at the TV in what could only be described as pure horror.

“What happened?” Doyoung swiftly sat next to him, “Are you alright?”

When he spoke up, Taeyong’s voice was weak and quivering, “Doyoung, what’s Johnny’s flight number?”

“Huh? Hold on,” Doyoung turned to check the phone he left on the table, “It’s—“ he stopped the moment he caught the TV screen from the corner of his eyes.

It was a breaking news broadcast, interrupting the primetime drama Taeyong must be watching. Doyoung read the flashing fonts on screen before he picked up the announcement. There was an aircraft accident. A flight heading to the USA, departed just 2 hours ago. Below it was a scurry of smaller letters, familiar to Doyoung as he realized that it was the flight number Johnny had told him.

Doyoung could’ve swore the room’s temperature dropped to subzero.

He felt Taeyong scrunching his shirt when they found Johnny’s name among the list of passengers boradcasted to notify friends and family, so bright and jarring in the gloom of their living room.

“The airplane,” Taeyong’s body started shaking next to his own rigid one. “It exploded mid-flight.”

_Just like Johnny’s dream_ , Doyoung thought.

Johnny had told him about the dreams. People like Johnny and Taeyong had the same dream every night — dream of their final death, dream of the moment their curse would ultimately break and they could move on to the next life like normal people. Johnny always talked about explosions and being burned alive, and with his permanent naivety Johnny had conveyed how glad he was that they were past the times of worldwide wars. How he never took account of the advancement of technology, Doyoung only started thinking about it now.

“The dreams.. The dreams are right,” Taeyong's lips trembled, forming a sad, hollow smile, “Then my dream will come true too. Doyoung, my dream will come true.”

Doyoung instantly pulled Taeyong into his embrace. Doyoung had already memorized how Taeyong’s dream played out. He ought to remember the dreams, because he had been in Taeyong’s for centuries.

Or so Taeyong told him, time and time again.

“Taeyong..” he slowly started, "Are you.. are you sure now that it's me in your dreams?"

“I’m sure,” Taeyong sniffled, “Because when that man stabbed me in my dreams, he kissed me. And I felt nothing but love,” Taeyong looked up and stared into Doyoung's equally glassy eyes, “And I’ve only ever loved you.”

Doyoung knew it was nothing short of the truth. Johnny had vouched that Doyoung was the only person other than himself who Taeyong ever let inside his heart. Like Johnny, Taeyong had his ways of keeping other people out of harm's way — the harm that he could bring upon innocent souls. Johnny ran away; Taeyong hid himself.

That was, until he met Doyoung. Taeyong could  _feel_ that it was Doyoung in his dreams, Taeyong had known since the first day of high school that he was destined to love him. And Johnny had swore he never saw Taeyong so in love. He never saw Taeyong risking his secret to be out in the open, never saw Taeyong willingly have the curse took over him, never saw Taeyong surrendered to the impulses to hurt himself, just so he could be near Doyoung for another minute.

Doyoung found it unfair, that he only appeared in Taeyong’s life to put an end to it, but Taeyong always believed him as his saving grace. He was always so grateful to be able to spend his last years with someone he could love, after experiencing too long of a loveless life. 

And Doyoung was too weak for Taeyong. 

He knew that even if his conscience were against it, he couldn't just let Taeyong go. He couldn't let Taeyong grieve if he passed away before him, leaving Taeyong back in his vicious cycle of self-hate. He couldn't let Taeyong suffer any longer.

He loved Taeyong too much to not make his dreams come true. He loved Taeyong too much not to kill him with his own hands.

And now that Johnny was gone, the due date for his murder also got closer and closer.

Before he realized it, Taeyong's soft hands cupped his face, his slender fingers wiping the tears that Doyoung couldn't feel, and Doyoung was too stunned to wipe the stream of tears from Taeyong's own eyes.

"Please don't have doubts now, love," Taeyong whispered, as if anything louder would ruin the silent promise Doyoung had made, “Remember that you will do it out of mercy.”

Doyoung's heart clenched.

His time with Taeyong would end.

“Doyoung, only you can set me free.”


End file.
